Aftermath
by Scattered Logic
Summary: The final battle has cost more than lives. Character death. (Ficlet - Complete)


The battle was done and so many had fallen. Professors Sinistra, Hooch and Vector had died in the first wave. Professor McGonagall, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mad Eye Moody and Nymphadora Tonks were lost in the second.

The list of the wounded was too long to name.

Harry Potter, with assistance from Dumbledore, had saved the day just as the prophecy had foreseen, and Voldemort had finally been destroyed. Both Dumbledore and Harry had been wounded but both had been healed. Even now, celebrations were beginning to take place.

However, for those mourning the dead, celebration was impossible. For the girl tending the dying, it was incomprehensible.

The casualties had been brought into the medical ward with little semblance of order. Once the beds were filled, the survivors had been simply placed in the first clear spot.

Madam Pomfrey had instructed some of the seventh year students to help her perform a crude triage, separating the wounded into three classes: those who could wait, those who could not, and those who were beyond hope. The last group had been placed in a separate room.

The worst of the cases were transferred to St. Mungo's but the hospital had quickly been overcome with the influx of injuries. Therefore, the walking wounded and the ones too damaged to save had been left behind in Madam Pomfrey's care.

Hermione Granger was assisting the mediwitch by doing what she could to help. Which, Hermione thought bitterly, was damn little. All those Arithmancy and Transfiguration classes weren't helping her here. Even her Potions classes weren't doing very much good. There wasn't a potion to cure someone exposed to internalized burning curses, nor one to recover the mind of someone who'd been left under Cruciatus for the duration of the battle.

Her fellow students kept their eyes carefully averted, avoiding the room that contained those who were going to die. Madam Pomfrey was too busy elsewhere and none of her classmates wanted to look into the face of death, so Hermione had taken up that task. She wiped blood out of their eyes with cool, wet rags and tilted sips of water into their parched mouths, alternately murmuring comforting words and cursing under her breath, damning Voldemort to an eternal hell. As expected, the Death Eaters had turned up with wands in one hand, yes, but with swords and battle-axes in the other. The damage they had inflicted was extensive and brutal.

At the sound of a sharp groan, Hermione turned and found herself looking down at what was left of her Potions Master. It suddenly felt as if her chest was caught in a vice and her mouth went dry at the sight of the wounds he had suffered. The burns and slashes that covered his broken body were testament to the ferocity with which he'd fought.

During the last year, Hermione had begun to see past the grim exterior of Severus Snape. She'd caught glimpses of the man beneath the arrogant mask and her awareness of him had grown and her respect for him had melded into something... something _more_. But she had been careful to keep it a secret. Her friends would never have understood her burgeoning feelings toward the sharp-tongued and sarcastic man. How could she expect them to understand what she barely understood herself?

"Professor Snape?" Hermione called softly as she knelt beside him. Her heart lurched oddly and tears filled her eyes. "Can you hear me? Professor?"

His eyes barely opened and when they focused on her, he tried to speak but only succeeded in coughing. Hermione wiped his mouth, flinching at the bright scarlet stains that now covered the cloth. His lungs were filling with blood.

"Where is Professor McGonagall?" Snape finally succeeded in asking. His once velvety voice was reduced to little more than a croak.

Hermione froze. How was she to tell him that the woman he was asking for was already dead? What purpose could it possibly serve? He was _dying_. Her mind quickly skittered away from that thought. Each moment that passed made it more difficult to hold herself together and the blinding pain that was lurking under the surface would overwhelm her if she allowed herself to be weak now.

"She's not here right now, Professor. You should rest," Hermione said finally. "I'll stay with you."

"I must speak to Minerva." He tried to take a deep breath and coughed again. "I've little time, girl. Go and get her."

Hermione looked at the man she was beginning to love and, blinking back tears, she made her decision. Whatever last minute instructions he wanted to give to Professor McGonagall, she would hear them and take them to the Headmaster. Professor Snape need never know the truth.

"I'll get her for you, Professor," she said firmly.

Whirling around, Hermione set out at a dead run. She made it to Professor McGonagall's rooms in record time and when the door refused to yield to any password she tried, Hermione simply pulled her wand out with a frustrated snarl and blasted the door to pieces.

She found what she was looking for in the suite's small bathroom. A silver brush with a few hairs still clinging among the bristles was lying on the counter.

Her prize clutched tightly in her hands, Hermione raced to the Potions classroom and then into Professor Snape's workroom. She'd been working on her seventh-year Potions Project and he'd given her a password that took down the wards protecting the room so that she could work on it without his constant presence.

Polyjuice took a month to brew, but she'd seen a small supply bottled among the various other potions that Professor Snape kept on hand in case of... What? she wondered for a moment, and then cast that thought aside. It didn't matter now.

She broke the seal on the potion and pulled a single hair from the brush. Dropping it into the thick liquid, she stirred it quickly and then held her nose and drank. A tremor ran through her body and then the prickling sensation began as her body reshaped itself. The prickling became a teeth-clenching ache for a moment and then faded away.

Hermione prayed that the celebrants were still gathered in the Great Hall, it wouldn't do for any of them to encounter her now, and she carefully made her way back to the medical ward.

She knelt again beside Professor Snape. His breathing had become harsher, she noticed, and he'd begun to tremble.

"Pro--," she began and then shook her head slightly, frowning at her stupid mistake. She knew the Professors were on a first name basis. "Severus?" she said quietly. It was odd to hear Professor McGonagall's voice coming from her mouth. "Severus, I'm here."

Again those black eyes opened. But to Hermione's surprise, they immediately softened and he reached out quickly for her hand. She tried to keep her confusion from showing as he interlaced his twitching fingers with her own.

"Minerva," he said softly. "You're safe. I was so worried that you'd be harmed. Have we won? Is it over?"

"Ye--Yes, it's over and we won," Hermione answered. She closed her eyes briefly, dizzy with the dawning awareness that Severus Snape and Minerva McGonagall were more than colleagues. When Snape's hand released her own and he drew his fingers softly down her cheek, her thoughts were confirmed.

For an instant, there was a bright, sharp pain in her chest and Hermione smiled tightly but ignored it.

"I wish we'd had more time," he said, cupping her cheek. Hesitantly, her hand came up to rest against his and, once more, their fingers intertwined.

"I wish that as well." Hermione's voice broke. The words were uttered by the lips of a dead woman but came from the heart of a living one. "I--I love you, Severus. I'll always love you."

That living heart finally shattered at the happiness that appeared on Severus Snape's bloodied face as she spoke those words. For the first time, Hermione saw him give a soft smile and she leaned down to press a gentle kiss against his lips. She drew back and brushed his hair away from his eyes.

"I love you, Minerva," he whispered. "I-- I--" And then he tensed and shuddered violently before his body went slack.

As the glittering dark eyes grew dull, Hermione Granger - in the guise of Minerva McGonagall - clutched his hand and wept for everything that had been lost and everything that would never be.


End file.
